It In liver complaints, that arise from a long residence in torrid climes, the superior efficacy of these waters is firmly established; and many whose health has been thus injured, annually resort to this place, and bear away in their altered looks ample testimony of the benefit they have received. The baths which I have before noticed, are likely to be of incalculable advantage to those who are tormented with extraneous affections, for the cure of which, the internal use of these waters has long been efficiently employed, The bathing plan, however, would be greatly improved, if it supplied artificial sea-water and sulphurated baths. The addition of a proper proportion of salt to the mineral water might easily be made; and surely some chemical process might be devised, to approximate the strong sulphurated saline nearer to the nature of Harrogate water. It would be worthy of the enlarged views of Mr. Thompson, to procure, if possible, the completion of the colonnade, and to open from thence a grand avenue to Montpelier wells. induced to mix salt with the provender the mind, promote exercise, which is naof their cattle, which produced in those ture's best restorative. thus fed, a manifest superiority. will hardly be necessary, after relating this strong fact, to insist on the inference to be drawn from the concurrence of all nations in the use of salt as a culinary ingredient; from the predilection shown for it by some of the feathered race, or from the salutary properties of the salt marshes, either in preventing or remedying the diseases of sheep. Can we wonder then that Cheltenham, liberally supplied as it is with saline springs, should be so much frequented? Here the active agency of common salt is heightened by the addition of other saline materials (Epsom and Glauber salts) whose aperient qualities are more decisive, while their debilitating effects are counteracted by carbonic and chalybeate principles, whose renovating influence upon the stomach is universally recognized. Here, according to the nature of his complaint, the invalid may have recourse to the saJine chalybeate of the old spa; a sulphuretted saline, approaching to the nature of Harrogate water; a simple saline, &c. &c. at Montpelier Wells; and a simple chalybeate, like that of Tunbridge, at Barrett's, and at Ridel's. These waters will doubtless always retain some degree of credit, although the manner of taking them may perhaps hereafter be somewhat varied. Reason, in many cases, would seem to prescribe an alteration of the evacuating and bracing systems; but as in all these points the sagest doctors disagree, every individual must be left to the direction of his own medical oracle, unless, having attained the age of forty, he has acquired temerity enough to become his own physician. The waters of Cheltenham are from their nature eminently calculated to relieve those distressing trains of bilious and nervous symptoms that are now become so prevalent. The fashionable modes of "killing time," in which so many are engaged, and the sedentary lives that others are compelled by necessity, or induced by choice, to lead, produce debilitating effects that assume a thousand hideous shapes. Relaxation of stomach, and consequent indigestion, is often the origin of those evils; and Cheltenham water, while it removes the crude accumulations that oppress the digestive powers, imparts to them a degree of strength and tone, that is speedily diffused through the whole body; while pleasant walks, charming rides, and innumerable objects, that interest I fear my prolixity has been tiresome, and therefore hasten to conclude. We have made a party for a rural excursion to-morrow, that will, perhaps, afford matter for my next letter. Adieu. Your's, &c. To the Editor of the Monthly Magazine. I SIR, SHOULD be glad if some of your correspondents would inform me, why Dr. Johnson, in his Lives of the Poets, says, that John Hughes was the son of a citizen of London, and Ann Burgess; William Shenstone, the son of Thomas Shenstone and Anne Pen; and that "Mark Akenside's father, Mark, was a butcher, of the presbyterian sect; his mother's name was Mary Lumsden." Are we to understand by this, "that they were not the offspring of marriage? It hath often occurred to me, that the poetical merit of Shenstone and Akenside has been much under-rated by the criticism of Johnson. In your Magazine for May last, appeared some strictures on Shenstone's Pastoral Ballad, with a sneering quotation from Polwhele, who must surely have been hard driven to find a rhyme for namby pamby, by instituting the infantile word, lamby. He cannot pretend that it was done in imitation of Shenstone, since such ponsense "Ideas, formis, and intellects, I once saw an humorous parody on this remained undiminished: a man is not less a man, because mimicked by a sickly dwarf. "More charms than my cattle unfold:" this, (with J. B.) I used to think faulty; but am now of a different opinion; for, on the twentieth of last month, (whilst enjoying that delightful view which an octagonal seat at the Leasowes in. scribed, "To all friends round the Wrekin," affords,) I observed on the lawn before me, handsome cows, beautiful calves; and, in the words of Dr. Watts, "the sweet little lambs, Were skipping about by the sides of their dams." These cattle truly "unfolded their charms." Cattle is not confined to cows and oxen, (as this gentleman seems to think,) but extends to all tame animals not strictly domesticated. In his criticism on the words "Not a brook that is limpid and clear," The says,) they imply that some of his brooks were muddy; the fact is, that some of them are so closely shaded with trees, as to be neither limpid nor clear," and yet not muddy. I can assure him, that at the Leasowes I saw, in great profusion, "Thickets of roses that blow," and from which Nightingales may warble their loves." SIR, A frequently the vehicle of biogra S your valuable Magazine has been phical notices of valuable and remarkable persons, I judge that the liberty I take ' in sending you some memoirs of the life and opinions of the late Dr. Pike will not be unacceptable. him, and have often been greatly gratified In early life I was very intimate with which was indefatigable in obtaining in observing his strong inquisitive turn, knowledge, and searching for truth. His complete liberality, and soft urbanity ties, was a conspicuous trait in his cha of manners towards all persons, or parracter, and gained him much attention. He was a sedate, modest, virtuous youth; and in his filial character there are but few like him. In after-life, his extreme fondness for obscure retirement removed him very much from the observation, and kind notice, of many who would have found great pleasure in his friendship. In those early days, he gave me the particulars of his family history; he told me that his ancestors lived first at Marlborough, and then at Lavington, in Wiltshire; that they were country carpenters for several generations; that they had a small inheritance at Lavington, and lived comfortably. That his great grandfather went up to London in 1667, and was engaged for several years in rebuilding the city after the great fire: that some years afterwards, this great grandfather, when repairing some houses which he had at Portsmouth, died suddenly, being found by one of his workmen dead and stiff, in an attitude of prayer, on his knees, and leaning against a window seat. His son remained at Lavington, and had a numerous family, one of whom was the late Doctor's father. Dr. Pike's father came to London at about the age of twenty. He was already married, and he soon engaged in business in the parish of St. Ann, Westminster. His wife died in a short time; and in 1743 he married again to a Miss Baxter, by whom he had several children. The Doctor Doctor was the second, and was born in King-street, in September, 1745, His father died when he was scarcely four years old; and when the family affairs were settled, the widow found herself left in very narrow circumstances. This might have been fatal to the plan which the parents had intended to adopt for their son-but genius will force its way. His father was one of the first adherents to the methodists, (then a new sect); and had he lived, it would have been his highest ambition, and dearest delight, to have seen his son a flaming methodistical declaimer. But herein he would probably have been disappointed; for as soon as the boy began to think, he began to doubt about their peculiar tenets, to hold religious whimsies in dislike, and to be disgusted with every thing that was enthusiastic. re As his mother's finances would not allow her to spare enough for adopting the plan which her late husband had designed for their son, by sending him to one of the English universities, she was obliged to give him only a private education. His first rudiments were ceived from a very judicious old woman, who taught him to read correctly, and so fitted him for his future school. At five years old, he was placed under the care of a clergyman, who was a friend of his mother; and before he reached his sixth year, he began learning Latin. With this gentleman, who was an excellent clas sical scholar, he continued ten or twelve years, no doubt to his great advantage. I do not recollect what he has told me of the intermediate time till 1766; but then be was classical assistant at a considerable boarding-school at Guildford, and afterwards at a grammar-school, somewhere in Kent. The natural turn of his mind, led him at this time to critical theology, and to medical studies, which might be called his hobbyhorse. He attended medical lectures in London, during the vacations. He rose early, and sat up late at his studies. He never allowed himself an idle hour. Even his walks for exercise were usually solitary, and his pockets were always stuffed with books, He was fond of sitting in Catharine-hull chapel (a fine picce of ruins near Guild. ford) where he could be for hours undis turbed; and afterwards, when in Kent, he had some sequestered retirement on the bank of the Medway, to which he used to find his way through a wood, where there was no path. There he could be entirely free from interruption; and here he passed many of his leisure hours, with the books which he carried thither in his pocket. When his clerical career commenced, I either never learned, or do not remem ber; but he was recommended to his bishop by a large and most respectable number of clergy, to whom he was well known. I recollect to have seen his papers, and among the subscribed names, were those of Dr. Sumner, the master of Harrow; Mr. Gibson, a relative of the bishop of London; Dr. Burdett, and Dr. Hill, of Guildford; Dr. Wilson, of Deptford; and an unusual number of others. He was well known to, and much esteemed by, Dr. Secker, the archbishop; Dr. Terrick, then bishop of London and Dr. Thomas, bishop of Winchester; with the latter, he had a considerable degree of intimacy, and spent many pleasant hours with his lordship in his study, at Chelsea. Yet, notwithstanding all this, I think be did not continue many years in the establishment. He soon began to doubt of many things, and strongly to dislike many others. He repented his subscription to the articles, and would not, on any account, repeat it. Whether he ever undertook any stated clerical duty, while in the establishment, I know not; but I should think it likely that he did not. I recollect he was offered a grammar-school in the weald of Kent, to which two good curacies were annexed; but the water of the place was bad, and he would not accept the offer. I know he was afterwards offered a comfortable rectory, which conscience would not allow him to accept. Seeing, or thinking he saw, great defects in the constitution and daily services of the church, he became very uneasy and dissatisfied. The more he read, the more he thought; the more his difficulties encreased. One object after another arose in his mind, till at length he was very bitterly embarrassed. He had prejudices hanging about him respecting schism, and was therefore not clear, that to secede from the church was innocent. He was unacquainted with dissenters, and thought that the great majority of them were merely ranting enthusiasts, or rigid calvinists, with very few, if any, rational men among them. His views opened but by little and little; and therefore he then thought, Dr. Priestley went too wide. I have often heard him say, at this time, that the state of his mind was severely painful. But at length, by the reasonings reasonings of a very intimate friend, the curate of a neighbouring parish, he was freed from his apprehension of guilt in separation; and from that time he determined on seceding. Emolument was as nothing to him, when conscience forbad. "Go, (said his liberal-minded friend,), if your conscience cannot be satisfied with us, let not your talents lie idle; go hear Kippis, Price, Farmer, Pickard. Join that body of Christians; for other dissenters will not suit you. Among them you may be useful." He went and was delighted. He sought acquaintance with these gentlemen, and an intimacy commenced with them, which lasted many years; more especially with Dr. Kippis. That gentleman's great urbanity and friendship, afforded him one of his greatest pleasures. He now decidedly renounced the establishment; and the first time he preached among the dissenters, was for Dr. Kippis, in March, 1777. He, after this, became intimately acquainted with all those London ministers who were called presbyterian, and all their pulpits were occasionally open to him. At this time, he kept a boarding-school in London; but about the year 1779, he removed it to Stoke Newington, and soon after to Falmonton. When there, he married a Miss Gregory, the daughter of a Russia merchant, deceased, by whom he has since had a very large family. In a few years he gave up his school to her brother, himself accepting an invitation to a congregation somewhere in the west, through the medium of Dr. Savage. But whether he found things disagreeable there I caunot say, for his stay in that part was not long. He returned to the metropolis. Here is again a break in the information I can give, as I then left England for near five years. At my return, in 1791, he was practising medicine in London, (and a inost intuitive and able physician he was.) I suppose his diploma was from Scotland, or America. How long he continued the practice of that profession I know not; but as his own health was always tender, he could not then bear residence in town, and therefore lived at a little distance. I suppose he was never extensively known as a physician. He could not push himself into notice. He bated all little arts. And as he spent but a few hours daily in town, that circumstance was against hin. Nevertheless, when he declined practice, he bad acquired some comfortable property, The on which he supported his large family, with economy, for several years. late Dr. Buchan, with whom he was very intimate, spoke to me with great respect of his medical abilities, of his abhorrence of medical cant and consequential ignorance, of his disinterested honesty; but, said he, 66 he loves to be too much in the shade, he is too fond of a back-ground." About this time, he had a tempting offer if he would return to the establishment, but his views were not altered, and the offer was made in This At length, a most infamous and bitter persecution was commenced against him, by a set of the vilest miscreants on earth, acting in a large confederacy. compelled him, with a broken spirit, at the age of sixty, to quit a comfortable situation, and all his connections. Nobody knew to what part he retired. Some said to Holland, others to Ireland, others to Yorkshire. But I think they were all mistaken, and that he went westward; for in the spring of 1805, I saw him from my window, at Bridport; and a short time after, I saw him again at Exeter, purchasing a horse. As I judged that I might hurt his feelings, if he wished for conccalment, I did not speak to him; and from that time I knew no more of him, till I read his death in the daily papers; I suppose between two and three years ago. I greatly pitied his undeserved sufferings, for I know him to have been a very valuable and worthy man; unassuming in his disposition, bland in his manners, and strict in moral principle. As a son, a husband, a father, and a minister, he commanded esteem. His heart was truly friendly, and he was sympathy itself towards all kinds of distress; ever ready to render any kindness, or make any sacrifice, to assist or sooth the sorrowful. I could tell such instances of this kind, as are very rarely to be met with, but they would lengthen this narrative too much. Perhaps I may give them in sonic future letter. He was an able, classical scholar; a good biblical critic, a very pleasing poet, and deep read from his youth in medical lore, which was his peculiar delight. But none but his immediate and very intimate friends could know all this; for he made no display of his knowledge or talents; and rather seemed to aim at con. cealment. I have some sweet pieces of his poetry by me, which I may some time transcribe and send you. As a preacher, he he was clear in his instruction, and powerfully impressive. There is a sermon against drunkenness, in a volume which he published many years ago, which is the most masterly thing of the kind that I have ever seen. He was always candid and kind to people of every creed; not believing, that any human opinions can make the smallest difference in our allotments bereafter; unless it be such as are prejudicial to morals here. He would smile at honest enthusiasm, and what he termed religious whimsy; but he was decidedly hostile to, and zealous against, all those systems of divinity which he thought represent the Creator in an unamiable light, or which lead to moral depravity. When young, he had some peculiarities of opinion; it is probable, that as he was a thinking man, he might either drop some of them, or adopt more as he grew older. From former conversations with him, and from what I have since heard, I have reason to think, that, though he did not lightly adopt any peculiarity of sentiment, he held the following opinions: 1. That the inspiration of scripture was partial only; for that divine inspiration was not necessary to dictate the narration of facts, or those historical books which appear to be extracts from the Jewish registers. 2. That the Mosaic account of the fall of man is probably allegorical; but if not, that in that, and the History of Creation, the facts were collected by Muses from tradition; and embellished in a way something like the machinery of poetry, by the fancy of the writer. It could not be supposed, (he would say) that God actually walked in the garden, and chose the cool of the day, as if he could be affected hy heat. Many other similar matters he considered as embellishment. 3. That Adam was asleep when Eve was placed by him; and that he had dreamed she was taken out of his side. 4. That there is no proof that Abel killed his cattle for sacrifice; but that it is more probable, he only brought them on a day appointed for solenn worship by his father, and presented them before the Lord, as a grateful acknowledgment; and, perhaps, poured out a libation of the milk or cream, which Dr. P. thought is mistranslated, fat. 5. That human sacrifices were not uncommon prior to the days of Abraham; and that having them familiar to his mind, by report, he dreamed he was commanded to sacrifice his son, which supposed command, judging the dream to be divinely impressed on his mind, he hastened to obey. 6. That the ceremonial part of the Jewish law, &c, was not given by God, but only suited by the prudence of Moses, as a wise le◄*. gislator, to the Jewish people at that time. 7. That the story of Balaam's ass was only an impressive dream of the prophet, but perhaps under divine' direction. 8. That the books which compose the sacred volume, having been written at very difsions, may sometimes be difficult to be underfernt times, and upon very different occa stood, but that no part of scripture has a double or hidden meaning. 9. That the psalms were written by several persons, and on particular occasions. That the sublimest devotion, and all the beauties of fine writing, are to be found in them. But he denied them any inspiration, except it be what is called poetical inspiration. That no one of them can be found wholly applicable to the Messiah; and that, therefore, (notwithstanding what Jews or Christians may have thought to the contrary,) no one of them is prophetical, or has any reference to Jesus Christ. The passage in Luke xxiv. 44," and in the Psalms," he thought he could prove to be an interpolation. 10. That what are called types in the Old Testament, were never intended as such ; but are only fanciful applications by the Jews and Christians. 11. That the Canticles were merely lovepoems; admirable indeed for their tender beauties. That they were not written by Solomon, but by some one of his courtiers; and that they were placed in the sacred canon, by Ezra, to please the Jews, and in compliment to their favourite Soloiñon. 12. That the book of Jonah is probably a Jewish legend, like that of Tobit. That our Lord's notice of it, did not establish the facts in it; but only spake to the general. belief, and current opinion, of the Jews. The impossibility of a man being so long in the stomach of an animal, where he could not breathe, and must have been ground to chyle, he thought an insurmountable objection. That it was miraculous, was not to be supposed; because miracles were not wrought, but for some weighty reasons, and to answer some great ends; but no such reasons or ends are apparent. If, therefore, the narrative be true, he supposed there must have been some hill near the shore, commonly called the Great Fish, perhaps from some resemblance in its form, (as the long hill between Guildford and Farnham is called the Hog's Back), and that under or in this hill was a cavern, where Jonah might be confined for the whole time mentioned. But he judged the former supposition the mast probable. 13. That history affords the best comment on the writings of the prophets; for that though there are many clear predictions respecting the Messiah, given, no doubt, by the highest inspiration; yet, that many other pastages |