[Footnote 4:  The Egyptian Mahommedans believe that for some time after death the body is conscious of its actual state, and of what is passing immediately around it.  In this persuasion, mothers will remain days and nights near the graves of their recently buried children, in order that they may not feel terrified at being left alone.]

[Footnote 5:  R. Bernal Osborne, Esq., M.P.]

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A British Meteorological Society is projected, with Mr. Whitbread as President.  Its objects will be the observation and collection of all meteorological phenomena, and the encouragement of the science in every branch.  This sort of subdivision of literary and philosophical pursuits is very injurious, for it tends to starve a number instead of supporting one with sufficient resources.

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GOLDEN RULES OF LIFE.—­All the air and the exercise in the universe, and the most generous and liberal table, but poorly suffice to maintain human stamina if we neglect other co-operatives—­namely the obedience to the laws of abstinence, and those of ordinary gratification.  We rise with a headache, and we set about puzzling ourselves to know the cause.  We then recollect that we had a hard day’s fag, or that we feasted over-bounteously, or that we stayed up very late:  at all events we incline to find out the fault, and then we call ourselves fools for falling into it.  Now, this is an occurrence happening almost every day; and these are the points that run away with the best portion of our life, before we find out what is for good or evil.  Let any single individual review his past life:  how instantaneously the blush will cover his cheek, when he thinks of the egregious errors he has unknowingly committed—­say unknowingly, because it never occurred to him that they were errors until the effects followed that betrayed the cause.  All our sickness and ailments, and a brief life, mainly depend upon ourselves.  There are thousands who practice errors day after day, and whose pervading thought is, that everything which is agreeable and pleasing cannot be hurtful.  The slothful man loves his bed; the toper his drink, because it throws him into an exhilarative and exquisite mood; the gourmand makes his stomach his god; and the sensualist thinks his delights imperishable.  So we go on, and at last we stumble and break down.  We then begin to reflect, and the truth stares us in the face how much we are to blame.

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PROGRESS OF MILTON’S BLINDNESS.—­It is now, I think, about ten years (1654) since I perceived my vision to grow weak and dull; and, at the same time I was troubled with pain in my kidneys and bowels, accompanied with flatulency.  In the morning, as I began to read, as was my custom, my eyes instantly ached intensely, but were refreshed after a little corporeal exercise.  The candle which I looked