1. What the natural state of the body means	10. Of tasting
2. Of the circulation of the blood	11. Of feeling
3. Of respiration	12. Of hunger and thirst
4. Of chylification	13. Of sleep
5. Of nutrition	14. Of local motion
6. Of the senses	15. Of voluntary and involuntary motions
7. Of sight	16. Of the stature of man
8. Of hearing	17. Of the age of man
9. Of smelling

1. That is the NATURAL STATE of the human body, wherein all parts of it duly perform their natural operations. The chief of these are, the circulation of the blood, respiration, chylification, nutrition, and motion.

2. That the blood circulates through the whole body appears hence. Any of the arteries being tied with a thread, will swell and beat between the bandage and the heart, but grow flaccid between the bandage and the extremities of the body. And if the artery be cut between the bandage and the heart, blood Streams out, even to death: but if it be cut between the bandage and extremities, very little blood comes out. The vital blood therefore flows from the heart, through the arteries, toward the extremes of the body, and still out of a wider part into a nar rower; out of the trunk into the branches.

Any of the larger veins being tied with a thread, swells between the extremes and the bandage, but grows flaccid between the bandage and the heart. If opened in the former part, it bleeds largely; if in the latter, scarce at all. The blood therefore flows from all the extremes, through the veins into the heart, and still from the narrower parts of the vein to the larger; front the branches to the trunk.

Upon the whole it is evident, that all the arteries are continually bringing the blood from the lea ventricle of the heart, through the trunks of the arteries into their branches, and from thence to all parts of the body: and on the contrary, that all the veins, except the vena port, are continually bringing it back from all parts of the body, through the small branches into the larger; and thence through ‘the trunks and vena cava into the right ventricle of the heart. So that the whole blood passes through the heart once in five or six minutes.

It is certain, that all the arteries and veins communicate or open one into the other; because, often from one, and that a small artery, all the blood shall run even unto death, not only out of the wounded limb, but from the whole body. Of such fatal examples we have a number; from an inward artery of the nose, from the gums, a finger, a tooth, a cutaneous pore enlarged, from the lachrymal point, from the wound of cupping on the skin, and even the bite of a leech. There arc, therefore, of course, op€n ways by which the blood speedily flows from the venal, into the arterial system, and the reverse.

Late writers have pursued the globules of blood to a great length, awl found several orders of them. The large ones visible to the naked eye, are globules of the first order. Each of these is composed. of six smaller, joined together in a very regular way. But sometimes a red globule is seen loosening, and breaking into these compounding spherules. And sometimes one may perceive these running together, and beginning the composition of a new, red globule. These smaller spherules they call globules of the &econd order. But we arc not to stop here. There are in the blood a great many particles six times less than these. Globules of the second order are compounded of these smaller ones, which therefore are globules of the third order.

Farther. There are innumerable blood vessels of such smallness, that none of the above mentioned globules can pass them: so that we cannot but suppose still smaller globules. The diameter of some vessels is less than the eighth part of the diameter of a red globule: so that the particles passing through them, must be above five hundred times less than those globules. Nay, on a careful examination, we perceive vessels narrower than the tenth part of the diameter of a red globule; which consequently can transmit spherules no greater than the thousandth part of a red globule.

On the whole then, each globule of the first order is made up of six of the second: these of six of the third, those of six of the fourth : these of six of the fifth, and so on. And accordingly we find, the globules of the highest orders may be broken down into their compounding particles.

The diameter of a common red globule is about the 1938th part of an inch. The diameter of a globule of the tenth order is less than the 400,000th part of an inch.

Anatomists and physicians have generally determined the quantity of blood in the human body, to be between fifteen and twenty-five pounds. But Dr. Keil shews from many instances of profuse hmorrhages, that a far greater quantity must’ be allowed. Otherwise the patient could never have furnished, of at least survived, such evacuations; the least of which exceeded the whole quantity of blood supposed to be in the body.

In reality, the quantity of blood in a human body is difficult to be determined. Bleeding to death, the usual method, can never shew what is its true quantity: because no animal can bleed longer than while the great artery is full; which will require a longer or a shorter time, as the wounded artery is smaller or greater. And the great artery must always be the first vessel that empties.

The only certain way of calculating is, to find what proportion the cavities of the vessels, of which the whole body is composed, bear to the thickness of the coats. This in the veins and arteries may be exactly found. But in the other vessels we only know the quantity of fluid they contain, by carefully evaporating as much as possible. Thus the doctor found the fluids to be in the arteries ‘as 17 to 1; in the veins as 15,6 to 1: in the bones as 1 to 1. The least of these proportions shews the liquors to be one half of the weight of the body. And if a calculation be made, on the proportion of the blood in the arteries, also to their coats in a body weighing 160 pounds, there will be found 100 pounds of blood or circulating fluid.

In a foetus the circulation is performed in a peculiar manner. The septum, which separates the two ventricles of the heart, is pierced through with an aperture, called the foramen ovale, and the pulmonary artery, a little after it has left the heart, sends out a tube into the descending aorta, called the COMMUNICATING CANAL. When the foetus is born, the foramen ovale closes, and that canal dries up into a simple ligament.

The foetus while in the womb receives little air. Its lungs therefore cannot swell and subside. They continue almost at rest: nor can they allow the blood to circulate, either in abundance, or with ease, Nature therefore has excused them from the passage of the greatest part of the blood,, and has contrived the forarnen ovale, by which, part of the blood of the vena cava passes through the right ventricle into tile left. And by this means it is found as far on its journey, as if it had passed the lungs, But this is not all. For that blood of the cava, which missing the foramen ovale, passes from the’ right auricle into the right ventricle, being still too much to pass by the lungs, the communicant canal intercepts part of it, and pours it immediately into the descending aorta.

3. Respiration is performed by receiving the air into the lungs, and breathing it out alternately. In the former, the cavity of the breast is enlarged, by the sinking of the diaphragm, and the erection of the ribs, through the force of the muscles placed between them. In the latter, it is contracted; the diaphragm rising and the ribs falling again. ‘Whenever the cavity of the breast is enlarged, the air by its weight naturally presses into it, and mixing with the blood in the veslicles of the lungs, makes it more fluid, globular and fit for motion. Air is likewise absolutely necessary in the body, to counteract the pressure of the outward air.

But if the blood in the lungs of a foetus has not the advantage of respiration, it receives a portion of air, transmitted with its mother’s blood by the umbilical vessels, to be diffused through the body. This is quite necessary, as appears hence: tie the naval string very tight, and the child dies, like a man strangled.

One use of respiration is, to push the blood from the right to the left ventricle of the heart: hence it is, that persons strangled so suddenly die, because, with respiration, the circulation of the blood ceases. And this is the true cause of the diastole of the heart: the weight of the incumbent atmosphere, being the true antagonist to all the muscles that serve both for inspiration and the contraction of the heart. As in the elevation of the ribs, a passage is opened for the blood into the lungs, so in the depression thereof, by the subsiding of the lungs and compression of the blood-vessels thereby, the blood is driven through the pulmonary vein, into the left ventricle of the heart. And this, together with the general compression of the body, by the weight of the atmosphere, is that power which causes the blood to mount in the veins, when the force, imprest on it by the heart, is nearly spent, and which forces the heart itself from its natural state of contraction, to that of dilatation.

When in an ordinary expiration, the pressure on the larynx is two ounces, the pressure on the whole internal substance of the lungs, is 14412 pounds. So vast is the extent of the surface of the vesicles, on which it was necessary the blood should be spread in the finest capillary vessels, that each globule of blood might, as it were, immediately receive tile whole force of the air, and thereby be broken into smaller parts, fit for secretion and circulation.

And hence we see the reason for the structure of the lungs. For since all the blood is to pass through them, in order to receive the effect of the air, and that this could not be done, unless it were diffused in very small vessels: it was necessary the surface on which they were to be spread, should be proportioned to their number. And this is admirably well provided for, by the fabric of the lungs.

If the diameter of the trachea at the time of every expiration were the same in all, and the weight of the air always equal, the pressure on the lungs would be always the’ same. But as the difference between its least and greatest gravity, is no less than a tenth part of the whole, that pressure is likewise greater by tenth part at some times than it is at others.

This is a difference which the asthmatic must., sensibly feel ; especially as they breathe thicker, that is, every expiration is performed in less time. In truth, these feel a difference in the air, upon the ..greatest rise and fall of the barometer, equal to above one third of its pressure in ordinary breathing.

The alternate dilatation and contraction of the thorax are so necessary to animal life, that there is no animal without this, or something analogous to it. Fishes and insects have no dilatable thorax. But fishes have gills, which receive and expel the water alternately, whereby the blood-vessels suffer the same alterations of dimension as those in our lungs do. And insects have air-vessels distributed through the whole trunk of their bodies. By these they communicate with the external air through several vent-holes, to which are fastened so many wind-pipes, which send branches to all parts, and seem to accompany the blood-vessels all over the body, as they do in our lungs Only. And hereby in every inspiration the whole body is dilated, and in every expiration compressed.

But may it not be doubted, whether the primary end of respiration be not to supply the whole animal machine with the ethereal fire, a particle of which is connected with every particle of air Is not this detached from it by the action of the lungs, and thence communicated to every part of the body And is not this the true vital flame, the original source of life and motion

4. CHYLIFICATION is preceded by digestion, which is much illustrated by Mr. Papin’s digester. This is a vessel wherein meat is put, with just as much water as will fill it. Then the lid is screwed on so close, as to admit of no external air. The meat herein is by the flame of a small lamp, in six or eight minutes brought to a perfect pulp. In a few minutes more the hardest bones are reduced to a jelly. No air entering, the succussions caused by the air, enclosed in the flesh, resolve the whole into one homogeneous body. It is just so in digestion. In proportion to its heat, the stomach does the very same thing as the digester.

Add to this, that the muscular coat of the stomach continually contracting, and pressing its Contents by its peristaltic motion, occasions a more intimate mixture, and works the more fluid parts, through the pylorus into the duodenum. Along the sides of this and the other small intestines the lacteals are planted: into the minute orifices whereof, the chyle or finer part of the mass is received. The lacteal veins of the first kind discharge themselves into the glands of the basis of the mesentery. The chyle is afterward received by the lacteals of the second kind, and conveyed into glands between the two tendons of the diaphragm. And hence it is carried to the heart, where it mixes with the blood.

5. By the perpetual motion of the fluids, especially in the minute vessels, as well as the constant action of the muscles, small particles are continually worn off, from the solids of the body. The fluids likewise are continually diminishing. And hence every animal body, by the very condition of its frame, is liable to destruction. To prevent this, a restitution must be made to the juices and solids of the body, equal and similar to what is lost. And this we call nutrition.

It seems to be performed thus. The blood forcibly thrown by the heart into the arteries, endeavours to go out every way through the pores. But these are usually too small to give its particles a free passage. They can only pass where any of the pores are open. Here one will naturally follow another in a line, and constitute a fibre or part of a fibre. When as much is thus added to one end of the fibre, as is wasted at the other, the body is nourished; when more is added than is wasted, we arc said to grow.

We see then how absolutely necessary food is, to repair the constant decay of the body: so that few men or women can live without it, above five or six days. And yet the abstaining from it, for a season, has its use. Indeed great is the efficacy of abstinence, both in prolonging life beyond its usual period, and in the cure of many stubborn disorders.

Lewis Cornaro, a nobleman of Venice, after all other means had failed, so that his life was despaired of at forty, recovered and lived to near a hundred, by mere dint of abstinence.

It is surprising to observe, to what an age those ancient christians lived, who retired from the fury of persecution into the deserts of Arabia and Egypt. They drank only water, and took no other food than 12 ounces of bread in 24 hours. On this, St. Anthony lived 105 years, Epiphanius 115, Simon Stylites 1 12, and Romuald 120.

Among animals we see surprising instances of long abstinence. Several species pass four, five, or six months every year without eating or drinking. So tortoises and dormice regularly retire at the season to their respective cells. Some kinds got into ruins, or the hollows of rocks; others, into clefts of trees. Some sleep in holes under the earth ; others bury themselves under water.

The serpent kind bear abstinence to a miracle. Rattle snakes will subsist many months without food. Dr. Shaw saw two Egyptian serpents, which had been kept in a bottle five years (on a small quantity of sand wherein they coiled themselves up), without any sort of food. Yet when he saw them they had just cast their skins, and were as lively as if just taken.

There have been instances even of men passing several months, with scarce any sustenance. So Samuel Chilton, of Tinbury, near Bath, in the year 1693, 1694, and 1695, slept sometimes four months, and sometimes above six together, with very little food : and six weeks without ans-, but a little teflt conveyed with a quill through his teeth.

And since this, John Ferguson, of Kilimelford, in Argyleshire, about eighteen years ago, overheated himself, drank largely of cold water, and fell asleep. He slept for four and twenty hours, and waked in a high fever; ever since his stomach loathes, and can retain no kind of aliment but water. A neighbouring gentleman to whom his father is tenant, locked him up for twenty days, Supplying him daily with water, and taking care that he should have no other food. But it made no difference, either in his look Or strength. He is now six and thirty years of age, of a fresh complexion, and as strong as any common man.

Still more strange is the case of Gilbert Jackson. About fifteen years of age, in February 1716, he was seized with a violent fever: it returned in April, for three weeks, and again on the 10th of June: he then lost his speech, his stomach, and the use of his limbs, and could not be persuaded either to eat or drink any thing. May the 17th, 1717, his fever left him, but still he was deprived of speech and the use of his limbs, and took no food whatever. June 30th, he was seized with a fever again, and the next day recovered his speech, but without eating or drinking, or the use of his limbs. On the 11th of October he recovered his health, with the use of one of his legs, but neither ate nor drank; only sometimes washed his mouth with water.

On the lath of June, 1718, the fever returned and lasted till September. He then recovered, and continued in pretty good health, and was fresh coloured, but took no kind of meat or drink. On the 9th of June, 1719, he was again seized with a severe fever. On the tenth, at night, his father prevailed on him to take a spoonful of milk, boiled with oatmeal. It stuck so long in his throat, that his parents feared he had been choaked; but ever since that time he has taken food, though so little, that a halfpenny loaf serves him for eight days. All the time he fasted, he had no evacuation, either by stool, or urine: and it was fourteen days after he began to eat, before he had any. lIe is now in pretty good health.

I suppose such another instance as this, has scarce been known in the memory of man.

It is not improbable, that the air itself furnishes some nutritive particles. It is certain, there are substances of all kinds, floating in the atmosphere. And that an animal body may be nourished hereby, is evident in the case of Vipers. These, if taken when first brought forth, and kept from every thing but air, will yet grow considerably in a few days.

6. As without respiration and nutrition we cannot live at all, so without SENSE, life would be like death. In every sensation there is, 1. An outward object. 2. Its action in the organ of sense. 3. A perception of it in the mind. The action of the object on the organ, is by means of the nerves communicated to the brain. And then, not otherwise, the perception follows. But how, none but He that made man can explain.

7. In SIGHT, the action on the organ is performed just in the manner of that in a camera obscura. The rays of light reaching from the surface of bodies to the eye, variously penetrate the coats and humours of it, and paint on the bottom of the eye the images of the things which we see. This is communicated by the optic nerve to the brain, and then the perception, which is properly sight, follows. But the eye has many advantages above a camera obscura: not only as it can be moved various ways, by the help of its muscles; but also as the pupil, by the help of the iris, is instantly either dilated or constringed, according to the degree of light. The eye likewise accommodates itself to the various distances of the objects, the bottom of the eye approaching to or receding from the crystalline humour, as the object is nearer or farther off.

8. SOUND is a tremulous motion of the air, produced by the stroke or collision of bodies. HEARING is performed in the following manner. The undulating air enters the outward cavity of the ear, and then strikes upon the drum: from which the motion is communicated to the little bones within arid the air contained in the inner cavity. This, by means of the nerve, conveys it to the brain, and then follows the perception which we term HEARING.

9. The fine effiuvia which spread every way from odorous bodies, ascending with the air into the nostrils, variously twitch the filaments of the olfactory nerves, according to the variety of their natures. When this motion is by those nerves communicated to the brain, tire perception follows which is called SM E LL IN G.

10. It was observed before, that the surface of the tongue is filled with small papillae, which are no other than fine ramifications of the gustatory nerve. These are variously moved, by the particles of meat and drink. And this motion being by that nerve transmitted to the brain, that perception arises which we stile TASTING.

11. The organ of FEELING is the skin in general, with which innumerable nervous papilla are interwoven, which being moved by the slightest touch of other bodies, convey that motion to tire brain. But these papill abound in all the extremities, particularly the palms of the hand, and the tips of the fingers. And hence it is, that the sense of feeling is far more exquisite in those, than in other parts.

12. Nearly allied to the senses arc the natural appetites, particularly HUNGER and THIRST. The usual way of accounting for them is this. When the food, now reduced to a pulp, is expressed out of the stomach, it is of course contracted by its muscular coat. This causes the inner coat to lie in folds; which by means of the peristaltic motion, rubbing lightly OH each other, occasion the uneasy sensation which we term HUNGER. This is felt first in the upper orifice which is first evacuated. But as by degrees the rest of the contents are expelled, this ‘rubbing of the membranes on each other spreads over the whole stomach, and renders our hunger more urgent.

This uneasy sensation is increased by the acidity, which the blood in the arteries of the stomach contracts through long abstinence, its soft, balsamic parts having been all drawn off. Likewise its velocity is considerably augmented, when we have not eaten for some time.

Hence it is, that hunger, if it continues long, will occasion a violent fever: that young persons, and those who labour hard, or are of a bilious constitution, are soonest hungry: whereas those whose humours are thick and viscid, are not so soon incommoded therewith.

13. Hot vapours ascending from the stomach, and drying the throat and mouth, are supposed to be the occasion of that uneasy sensation, which we term THIRST.

I say, are supposed. For I apprehend nothing can be known with any certainty upon the head. In like manner it is sup.. posed, that we are then awake, when the nerves are braced, and filled with animal spirits; and that when they are unbraced and empty, we sleep. But who can give any satisfactory account of sleep Some ascribe it to the stoppage of the nerves: some to the quiescency, and others to a deficiency, of the animal spirits. The truth is, we are ignorant of the whole affair; and no more understand sleep than we do death.

But this we know, that during sleep several functions are suspended, the organs of sense are at rest, the muscles are quiescent, so that hardly any spirits flow through them. The fibres of the nerves are little changed, and an equilibrium obtains throughout. There is no difference of pressure on the vessels, nor of velocity in the humours, which circulate equally through all the canals. . Mean time, all disturbing causes being at rest, the wasted humours are restored, and the particles supplied, which were worn off the solids.

We may observe farther, that when the head is hot, and the feet cold, we cannot sleep; that perspiration is twice as great while we sleep as while we are awake; that too much . sleep makes the senses dull, the memory weak, and the whole body listless; that sleep will for a considerable time supply the place of meat and drink; that a fœtus sleeps always; children much; youths more than adults, and they than old men.

To speak a little more particularly. While we are awake there is a continual motion of the voluntary muscles, of ‘the parts subservient to sense, and to the affections, all which stimulate the nerves, blood-vessels and heart. Thus the finer parts of the blood are continually wasted, whence weariness ensues: and if the vigilance be continued, a feverish heat and sensible loss of strength.

As the night advances, a weight falls on the large muscles and their tendons; and the mind becomes heavy. The Powers that hold the body erect, begin to shrink from their office; the eyelids close; the head nods, and we take less notice of outward objects, till at length all the thoughts are in confusion, and a sort of delirium ensues, from whence there is a transition to sleep, not known to us. This is hastened by darkness, composure of mind, and absence of irritation from all parts of the body.

Again: whatever weakens the natural powers, inclines to and increases sleep: such as loss of blood, cooling medicines, yea the cold of the external air. Add to these, whatever calls off the quantity of blood flowing to the heart, as warm bathing of the feet, a plentiful ingestion of food into the stomach: likewise whatever lessens the motions of the spirits, whether in the brain, or stomach, heart, or arteries. On the contrary, some hot medicines induce sleep, by causing a greater afflux of blood to the brain. The same effect bays some fevers; as also fatness, and whatever else retards the venal blood. In all these cases, the blood collected in the head compresses the brain, so as to lessen the course of the spirits into the nerves.

Sleepiness is likewise produced by any compression of the brain, whether from extravasatecl blood, a depressed part of some bones, or a collection of serous water within the ventricles,

Sleep therefore sometimes rises from a defect of time spirits always from a collapsing of the nervous fibres, through which the spirits pass from their fountain to all parts of the body.

It is hindered by intense thought, Pain of body, and strong emotions of mind: all which urge the spirits on, and prevent the nervous fibres from collapsing.

In sleep, the heart is gradually restored from its quick and almost feverish pulsation, to its slow and calm motion: the breathing is slower and smaller, the motion of the stomach and intestines, time digestion of the aliments and the progression of the faces are diminished. At the same time the thinner juices move more slowly, while the more gross are called together, the fat is accumulated in its cells, and the nutritive particles adhere more plentifully to the inner surfaces of the small vessels and the sides of the fibres. Thus while the spirits are secreted with a less consumption, they are by degrees accumulated in the brain, so as to distend and fill the collapsed nerves. And then we awake out of sleep.

Let us consider in another view these remarkable incidents of our frame, SLEEP and DREAMS: SO remarkable, that they are a kind of experimental mystery, a standing miracle. Behold the most vigorous constitution, when resigned to the slumbers of the night. Its activity is oppressed with indolence; its strength suffers a temporary annihilation. The nerves are like a bow unstrung, the whole animal like a motionless log. Behold a person of the most delicate sensations and amiable dispositions. His eyes, if wide open, discern no light, distinguish no objects. His ears, with the organs unimpaired, perceive not the sounds that are round about them. Time exquisitely fine sense of feeling is overwhelmed with an utter stupefaction. Where are his social affections He knows not the father that begat him, the friend that is as his own soul. Behold the most ingenious scholar, whose judgment traces the most intricate sciences, whose taste relishes all the beauties of composition. The thinking faculties are unhinged, and instead of close-connected reasonings, there is nothing but a disjointed huddle of absurd ideas. Instead of well-digested principles, nothing but a disorderly jumble of ‘crude conceptions.

Yet no sooner does he awake, than he is possest of all his former endowments. His sinews are braced and fit for action, his senses alert and keen. Time frozen affections melt with tenderness: the romantic visionary is again the master of reason. And, what is beyond ‘measure surprising, the intoxicated, mind. does not work itself sober by slow degrees; but, in the twinkling of an eye, is possessed, of all its faculties! Why does not ‘the numbness, which seized the animal powers, chain the limbs perpetually Why does not the stupor, that deadens all the senses, hold fast its possession When time thoughts are once disadjusted, why are they not always in confusion How is it, that they arc rallied in a moment, and reduced from the wildest irregularity to the most orderly array From an inactivity resembling death, and from extravagancies little differing from madness, how suddenly is the body restored to vigour and agility How instantaneously is the mind re-established in sedateness and harmony ! Surely “this is the Lord’s doing: and it is marvellous in our eyes !"

14. That all MOTION isperformed by means of the muscles, all men are now agreed. And it is supposed that the motions of the muscles proceed from the influx of the animal spirits; which entering them by means of time nerves, swell and shorten the belly of the muscle, and thereby draw the extremities together, and move the parts connected therewith. But all this likewise is mere conjecture. God only knows his own work.

15. That some motions are voluntarzj, and some are not, is another amazing proof of the Creator’s wisdom. Those which arc absolutely necessary ,for the conservation of the machine, as the heating of the pulse, and the circulation of the blood, go on by a kind of mechanic law, which no way depends upon our will: while a thousand other motions begin and end, by a single act of our will, when we please. But how this bodily motion is connected with that act of our mind, who is able to explain

16. There is a manifest congruity between the Stature of man, and his age, during the time of his growth. And as five feet and a half may l)e thought the ordinary height of man, so may seventy years the ordinary period of his life. Yet some vastly exceed in both respects. And as we know Thomas Parre and Henry Jenkins completed double that usual term of life, so we have no reason to question, that some have doubled the common stature of man. Walter Parsons, king James the first’s porter, was full seven feet, seven inches high. Mr. Ray saw a man at Bruges, who was eight feet and a half; all his limbs well shaped, and his strength proportionable. Becanus says, he saw a youth almost nine feet high; a man near ten, and a woman quite ten feet. Pliny mentions several men of the same height in his age. Yea, Thevenot tells us, that he met a Spanish merchant on the coast of Africa, who had in a coffer the skull and bones of an American giant, which he brought with him from that country, who was eleven feet, five inches in height, and died in the .year 1559.

From these warrantable accounts we learn, that there have been men eleven or twelve feet high, which equals, if not exceeds, the stature of the tallest giant mentioned in scripture. The height of Goliah was but six cubits and a span, which, is only nine feet, nine inches. Indeed the bedstead of Og, the king of Bashan, is said to have been nine cubits in length. But his bed must have been longer than his body: we may fairly allow nine inches above his head, and as much below his feet. And making this deduction, he was not above twelve feet high: much of the same stature with the giant, whose forehead bone is still kept in the medicine school at Leyden.

Is this deviation from the common stature of man by largeness, more remarkable than its opposite The deviation from it by littleness, which has been observed in some instances Such wan the dwarf, who lived for several years in the palace of the king of Poland. His parents were healthy, strong peasants, who affirmed, that at his birth he weighed scarce a pound and a quarter; that he was presented on a plate to be baptized, and for a long time had a wooden shoe for his bed. When 18 months old, he could speak some words’; when two years old, he could walk almost without help. His shoes were then just an inch and a half long. When he was six years of age, the king of Poland gave him the name of Bebe, and kept him in his palace. His height was then fifteen inches, and he weighed thirteen pounds. He was in perfect health, his person was agreeable and well proportioned; but there was little appearance of understanding. He had no sense of religion, was incapable of reasoning, and could learn neither music nor’ dancing. Yet lie was susceptible of passions in a high degree, anger and jealousy in particular. When sixteen years old, lie was ‘29 inches high, being still healthy and well proportioned: but from that time his health declined; yet he grew four inches in the four succeeding years. At 21 he was shrunk and decrepit; and at 22 it was with difficulty he could walk a hundred steps. In the 23d year he fell into a kind of lethargy, and in a few days died, as it were of old age.

17. The two most eminent instances of longevity in England were Thomas Parre and Henry Jenkins. Thomas Parre was a poor countryman of Shropshire, whence he was brought up to London, by Thomas, earl of Arundel. At the age of 120 he married a widow: at 130 he could do any husbandry work, even threshing of corn, although, soon after, his sight began to fail; nor had he the use of his memory, or but in a small degree for several years before he died: but he retained his hearing and apprehension to the last. He used to eat often, by day and by night, of milk, old cheese with coarse bread, whey and small beer. He died at the age of 152 years and 9 months. He might have lived much longer, but coming out of a clear, thin and free air to London, and from a plain country diet, to that of a splendid family, where he fed high, and drank the best wines, the natural functions were overcharged, and death could not but soon ensue.

Henry Jenkins called at my. house, I asked how old he was he paused and said, “about 162, or 163.” I asked what was the first public transaction he remembered he said,” the battle of Flowdenfield, being then 11 or 12 years old.”

For many years he was a fisherman, and used to wade in the streams. After he ‘was a hundred years old, he frequently swam in the rivers. The latter part of his life he was obliged to beg. He died at Ellerton upon Swale, in Yorkshire, December 8, 1670: having lived, supposing him to have been 12 years old, at the battle of Flowdenfield, which was fought September the 9th, 1513, a hundred and sixty-nine years, that is, sixteen longer than Thomas Parre.