city and Long Island shore, which is here lofty, is both good and safe. The tides rise but a few feet on this part of the American coast, so were docks absolutely necessary for the security of the shipping, they could scarcely be made available. Buildings have already encroached considerably upon this section of the East River, and numerous small low wooden piers jut out into the water, for vessels to load and unload at; the spaces between them, forming a series of small basins, without gates, are called "slips," and are found exceedingly convenient for the general purposes of ships and shipping.

The older portions of the city do not present much taste or regularity in the buildings and streets, although great improvements have been made from time to time, particularly in situations where fires have occurred, the most extensive being that which took place three or four years ago. With the single exception of Broadway, however, there is not a street that would strike the stranger as in any degree remarkable, Broadway commences at the extreme southern end of the city, at the Castle Gardens, and runs pretty nearly along the centre of the island; but owing to several slight ascents and descents, in passing along the ridge, the view is never so extensive as one might be led to suppose. Formerly most of the side walks were sheltered by rows of trees, but of later years an opinion got abroad that these trees were a nuisance, a harbour for insects to breed in, that afterwards found their way into the houses, to the great annoyance of the inmates. In consequence of this, many of the older trees have been removed, but the taste for shade-trees seems again to be reviving, and we find many recently planted ones in various parts of the city. Along the old portion of Broadway the buildings are by no means either peculiarly splendid or regular. A row of tolerably large brick houses is often interrupted by two or three low and meanlooking ones, and after gazing with admiration upon some genteel marble-fronted residence, probably the very next buildings will prove nothing better than two or three paltry shops, of not half the elevation of their classical and aristocratic neighbour. From many parts of Broadway there is a gentle descent on either hand towards the rivers, but in the newer portions of the city, many of the cross streets are almost on a level. Although there are some other streets parallel, or nearly so, to Broadway, the cross streets are often neither straight nor at equal distances, presenting but very little regularity. In the new portion of the city the streets are straight and regular.

William Penn was the founder of Philadelphia, and before the building of that city was commenced, a regular plan had been suggested, which was afterwards strictly adhered to, and those that have contributed since his time towards making Philadelphia what it is at present, appear to have made no encroachments upon the regularity of the original plan. In most of the better order of streets, the buildings are more regular than in New York, and although the houses are neither large nor much ornamented, on the whole they present a highly respectable appearance. Except in a few public buildings, principally banking institutions, you see no marble fronts; but the flights of steps in front of several of the best houses, as well as the door and window-sills, are of white or veined marble. The houses are mostly brick: a very few have stone fronts, and in both these large cities a few of the original wooden buildings are still visible. In one respect there is a resemblance between these rival cities-they are both built upon ground somewhat sloping, and between two rivers, though their respective rivers have little resemblance.

Philadelphia extends from the Delaware river on the east-which separates it from New Jersey-to the Schuylkill on the west, the distance between these rivers, across the centre of the city, being nearly two miles. It is but for a moderate distance, however, and that in the middle of the city, that the ground adjoining the Schuylkill has yet been built upon, the great accumulation of building being on the side of the Delaware. Market-street, which extends in a direct line from river to river, is accounted the centre of the city, the streets to the north and south of it being parallel thereto, while those running parallel to the rivers, cross it at right angles. Though the plan of this city is simple, yet it is interesting. All the streets running in a direction north and south are named according to their respective positions, in regard to their distance from the rivers. Thus on the side of the city adjacent to the Delaware-excepting the range of warehouses, and the street in their rear, which, significantly enough, is named Water-street, -they are called First-street, (or front,) Second-street, Third-street, &c., up to Thirteenth-street, that being the adjoining one to a broad avenue, running along the centre or top of the ridge. All these streets necessarily cross Market-street and the streets parallel to it, the various sections lying north or south of Market-street being named accordingly; those towards the north being named North Third-street, North Fourth-street, &c., while the contrary sections have South appended to them, and are known as South Fourth-street, South Fifth-street, &c. Perhaps to have followed out the simplicity of this plan the streets crossing east and west should have been named after the letters of the alphabet, but in that case an inconvenience might have occurred when the number of streets exceeded the letters in the alphabet. At present the principal streets, running east and west, are named after the various sorts of indigenous trees common to Pennsylvania. Thus there is Chestnut-street, Pine-street, Mulberry-street, Locuststreet, &c. But of late years there seems to have been some change of taste in the naming of their streets, or else they have outrun their wooden names, since we find many of the new streets evidently named agreeably to some whim or caprice, and many others after individuals, the original owners of the property, or those whose names are most popular amongst the American population.

While the city has been gradually extending in various directions, several villages once quite distinct from it (as was formerly the case with many villages now swallowed up by London) are now included within what may reasonably be considered its present limits; but the growth towards the north has somewhat exceeded that towards the south. The blocks of buildings formed by the streets crossing each other at right angles are called "squares." Hence a stranger who has been accustomed to the open areas of our own squares is occasionally not a little puzzled when he finds it necessary to inquire the way, or the distance to such or such a place for where it is intended to define the route very particularly the party inquired of will direct him along such a street, a certain number of "squares," (not so many minutes' walk, or the fractional parts of a mile,) and then turn to the right or the left, as the case may happen to be, when a certain number of squares more will bring him to the place he inquired for. Should he ask for an explanation respecting the names of the squares he would be surprised to find that nothing had been meant except the blocks of buildings between the several cross streets.

Owing to its inland situation Philadelphia is not so

agreeably refreshed with sea breezes as New York during the summer season; the distance from the sea at the entrance of Delaware Bay being nearly 90 miles. It is, however, generally considered the more healthy city of the two, which in some measure may be owing to its streets being more open and cleanly, since the streets in New York bordering on the East River, at least that portion of them inhabited by low Irish and coloured people, are usually in a disgusting and filthy condition. But most of the large American towns are more or less unhealthy during the latter part of the warm season, which needs no other | proof than a reference to the bills of mortality, and to the prevailing custom of removing to more salubrious situations during the hot weather by all who possess the means and whose presence can possibly be dispensed with in their callings or professions. The river Delaware is fully a mile in width in front of the city, whither ships of the largest size can come close up to the quay to load and unload; but owing to a bar, and the exposed situation of the entrance into the bay, Philadelphia has been considered neither a safe port, nor one easy of access. Moreover, the channel of the river is winding, so that it used sometimes to occupy several days to complete the voyage after entering within the capes of the Delaware. This species of delay, however, has been partially remedied by the introduction of steam-boats, the application of which however is attended with considerable expense. Severe frosts occasionally interrupt the navigation of the Delaware for several weeks; but severe indeed must be the season that materially affects the Bay of New York, The approaches to both cities are strongly fortified.

The Schuylkill is a much smaller river than the Delaware; and though its channel is of considerable depth from where it enters its sister river (four miles below the city), still it is comparatively little used for shipping purposes. Immediately above the city its banks attain a considerable elevation, affording beautiful views, some of which are highly picturesque. By means of a lofty dam thrown across this river, a considerable head of water is obtained, and powerful machinery employed in forcing the water through the spacious pipes to the top of the lofty bank where it is received into a capacious reservoir from whence it is conveyed to various parts of the city. The Philadelphians are very proud of their water works; nor do they neglect to let their neighbours of New York hear of their superior supply of this necessary of life. It must be admitted that New York is but indifferently supplied with good water; for neither that yielded by the generality of pumps, nor that kept in tanks, is of a good quality; the only really pure water to be met with during the summer is what is brought by water-carts from a spring at a considerable distance, and hawked about the streets and sold by the gallon. But the rivalry of these two cities extends to things edible, as well as to matters local and commercial, the prejudices of the parties being often carried to extravagant lengths-lengths occasionally assuming the ridiculous.

In consequence of the colony of Pennsylvania having been founded by William Penn and his followers, Philadelphia is not unfrequently denominated "the city of the Quakers;" and although the population at present comprises religious sects of various denominations, the Quakers, as to number, rank in the third or fourth order, but as regards wealth and respectability they are second to none.

For some time Philadelphia was considered as the capital of the United States, and the National Congress was held here until the year 1800; when,

agreeably to an Act of Congress passed eight years before, the government and the national legislative bodies removed to the City of Washington.

Within the last fifteen or twenty years the internal improvements with which Philadelphia is connec ted or interested in, have been carried to a very great extent; a few of the leading ones may be enumerated. Several years ago a rapid communication with New York was completed-being partly by steam-boat and partly by railway; the distance between those cities, by the old route, was ninety-six miles. The Delaware river has been rendered navigable nearly to its source-partly by improving the channel, and partly by opening canals to avoid the more formidable obstructions of the river. A canal has also been opened along the entire length of the valley of the Schuylkill, and another from the Delaware to the mountain region in the interior of the state; so that through these channels the city is not only supplied with an abundance of coal, but also with the produce of the country. Both a canal and a railroad have been made between the Delaware and Chesapeake Bays, affording convenient and expeditious communications between this city and Baltimore,-and thence by railroad to Washington City. But the greatest of these public works is the communication partly by railroad, and partly by canal, between this city and Pittsburgh on the Ohio,—from whence there is a steam-boat communication with the entire valley of the Mississippi. This route passes over the Alleghany mountains; the whole distance to Pittsburg being considerably over 300 miles.

With all these advantages, (and several others not enumerated) still Philadelphia cannot successfully compete with its formidable rival, although they undoubtedly very much tend to add to both its trade and resources.

The commercial importance of New York is by no means derived exclusively from its advantageous position as a sea-port; since, besides its natural advantages, it at present enjoys the privilege of vast internal improvements.

Besides that fine navigable stream, the Hudson, which stretches northward into the very heart of this fine and large state,—there are canals communicating with the lakes Erie, Ontario, and Champlain, and thence with the river St. Lawrence and both the Canadas. Some of the canals are connected with water communications passing through the states of Pennsylvania and Ohio, and thenceforward to "the Far West." By these means the productions of extensive regions, far into the interior, are brought to New York, to be exported or consumed as the case may be; and in return large quantities of merchandize are supplied to the inhabitants of the inland towns and cities, as well as to many a far-distant settlement. But there are various other works of general improvement, two of which, and not the least important, are the Delaware and Hudson, and the Morristown canals. The first of these connects the Delaware and Hudson rivers, the latter the Delaware (near the mouth of the Lehigh) and the Passaic river, and consequently with the Bay of New York. By these channels large quantities of coal find their way to this city; much of which is re-shipped and sent to various parts of the Union.

The steam-boats plying to and from New York are, probably, quite as numerous as those frequenting the waters of Old Father Thames. Besides the ferry-boats across the two rivers (all steamers, and no bridges) at the various ferries, there are vessels plying between this city and every sea-board town in the Eastern States; as well as to every sea-port towards the south from

hence to New Orleans on the Mississippi. Several of the boats frequenting the metropolitan rivers are splendid vessels, and elegantly fitted up; but the most admired of them are scarcely such beautiful crafts as the North-river steamers. For besides the large size, and beautiful proportions of these vessels, no expense is spared in embellishing their cabins and dining rooms; and in addition to those below deck, some of them are provided with handsome deck-cabins, and over these again are galleries covered with tasteful awnings where the passengers may lounge or take exercise, and enjoy at the same time the summer breeze that is scarcely perceptible in the lower parts of the vessels.

. The most imposing view of New York is from the south. In sailing up the bay you have the islandssome of them fortified and garrisoned-in the foreground of the picture, the North and East rivers stretching off to the right and left; while the city is seen somewhat indistinctly through. "the forest of masts," and the various-coloured flags of all the commercial nations under the sun; the chief defect being that you behold the narrow end of the city, consequently leaving too much of the picture to be completed by an effort of the imagination. From the lofty heights of Long Island, near Brooklyn (which by-the-by is a respectable-sized city already), there is an extensive view of New York across East River; but from thence you look too much directly at the broad side of it, although some of the islands on the left are embraced in this view.

The city of Philadelphia is seen to the greatest advantage by the traveller who approaches it from Trenton or Bordentown, by the route of the Delaware. For several miles before reaching the city, the banks of the river, particularly the right hand one, become both interesting and beautiful; while directly in front the buildings of the city are seen rising like an amphitheatre in the distance, with a moderate amount of shipping in the fore-ground, but sufficient to give it a commercial character. For awhile you discover no outlet for the noble stream down which you float,but as you approach nearer the city you find that the river, instead of continuing the same course, (which would take it directly through the heart of the city,) turns with a graceful sweep to the left, embracing a low grassy island, as it inclines to the flat shores of New Jersey. In this view of Philadelphia the ground ascends from the river just sufficiently to show the successive ranges of buildings rising one above the other; but there is but little diversity in the general appearance, there being but few edifices of an imposing character, and but two steeples or towers worth notice are seen 66 pointing to the skies." In this respect the approach to New York has the advantage, for there five or six buildings of this character are embraced in a distant view of that city.

In the year 1810 those rival cities were nearly upon an equality as regards population; for at that date the census gave New York a population of 96,000, and Philadelphia 92,000 inhabitants; and taking into consideration the fact that in giving the population of the former city the whole of the inhabitants in the county of New York, that is, upon the island of Manhattan, are embraced, probably the number of souls actually in the city did not outnumber those of Philadelphia. In 1820, according to the census, the population of Philadelphia had only increased to 102,000, while that of its rival had nearly reached 124,000. But during the intervening period it should be borne in mind that there had been a war of two or three years' duration between the United States and Great Britain, by which, there can be no doubt, the increase of

population was very much retarded. In 1830 the population of New York was given at something over 200,000; while that of Philadelphia (exclusive of two or three contiguous villages) was 111,000. In 1836 a committee of the council of New York estimated (but mark-it was but an estimate) the population at near 300,000; of the population of Philadelphia we have no returns of so recent a date, but the city has become considerably extended, and the number of inhabitants no doubt considerably increased, since the last census was taken.

THE EMANCIPATION OF LUNATICS. FIVE and forty years ago, lunatics were enchained throughout Europe. Eighty lunatics at the Bicêtre, an asylum for insane persons at Paris, were unchained by Pinel, in 1794, and the general treatment was henceforth improved; thongs and scourges were no longer delivered out to the keepers; and the result was, that many before deemed incurable recovered, and that all the rest became quieter and more easily governed. France was the first nation to offer the spectacle of nearly three thousand lunatics kept in confinement (in and near Paris) without chains, without blows, and without unkind treatment. Honour to Pinel! who, first of all in Europe, raised his voice against these atrocities, and pointed out the excitements they produced, and contrasted them with the calm that ensued on kind and compassionate treatment. In England, and indeed throughout Europe, the same benign spirit has manifested itself, and America has practically enforced the same great lessons of philanthropy. In Dr. Woodward's elaborate Report of the State Lunatic Hospital at Worcester, United States, it is said that of 230 patients, only one was, at the time of the inquiry, in personal restraint, and that under a system of leniency," the furious and violent had become docile and quiet; the filthy and degraded, cleanly and respectful."

The claims of the insane on their happier fellow-creatures are many and sacred. The effects of the varied forms of misery, of privation and neglect, of abandonment, physical and moral, are concentrated in the madhouse. Poverty there has done its worst: and man is reduced to a state from which, too often, there is no relief but death. It may be thought that madness, like death, knocks alike at the palace-gate, and at the labourer's hovel; but even more heavily and more darkly does the misery which it flings over devoted households fall on the poor. Sudden accidents come upon the working-man, too, in which a fall, a blow, a wound, immediately injures the brain, and incapacitates the honest labourer, yet in the prime of life, from all future profitable work: and who can see and talk to this victim of calamity, in the quiet moments and intervals of his malady, when his anxious thoughts turn with honest faith to his home, to his wife, to his children, without commiserating that ruined humble household: not forgotten, but no longer supported and defended by the unfortunate husband and father, who must linger out his life in an asylum!

Insanity appeals to the heart on every side, and happily, every act of benevolence produces its palpable good; under kind management hope revives, even in the cell, and on the bed of straw, and smiles relight the faces of those before forlorn and dead to every joy: by soothing care the frantic outrage of the maniac is abated, and the unspeakable wretchedness of the melancholic diminished. Every word, every look of kindness, finds its way to some pained heart, and does its blessed office. The great end, too, of all

these exertions,—the restoration of mental power, is infinitely noble. The physician feels that to restore health of body is an elevated art, the value of which those best can appreciate who have ever wanted the blessing. The art of the mental physician is to restore alacrity of attention, readiness of memory, warmth of imagination, accuracy of judgment, and the power to will and to do; the loss of all which is the most grievous part of sickness.

These principles are yet of recent acknowledgment, but of stability and truth; the blessed product of that enlightened and universal charity which, although it has not yet flourished equally in every age and clime, has its imperishable root in Christian institutions. [Abridged from the British and Foreign Medical Review.]

COURTESY.

AN ATHENIAN STORY.

IN Athens, cre its sun of fame had set,

Midst pomp and show the gazing crowds were met,
(Intent for ever upon something new,)
The mimic wonders of the stage to view.

Lo, where the wide extended Circus spreads,
In galleried ranks, its sea of living heads,—-
Ranged in close order, rising row on row;
-The void arena claims the space below.

The seats were filled. But ere the shows began,
A stranger entered: 'twas an aged man.
And while he sought a place with aspect mild,
The polished young Athenians sat and smiled;
Eyed his confusion with a sidelong glance,
But kept their seats, nor rose on his advance.
Oh! for a burning blush of deeper hue,
To mark the shame of that self-glorious crew.
How poor the produce of fair Learning's tree,
That bears no fruits of sweet Humility!
The growth of arts and sciences how vain,
In hearts that feel not for another's pain!

Not so the Spartan youth, whose simpler school
Instilled the plain but salutary rule

Of kindness! and whose honest souls preferred
Truth to Display-Performance to a Word.

They in the Cirque had their appointed place,
Apart from Attica's distinguished race,
And rose with one accord, intent to prove
To honoured age their duty and their love.
Nor did a Spartan youth his seat resume,
Till that old man found due and fitting room.

Then came the sentence of Reproof and Praise,
Stamped with the sternness of the ancient days.
For standing forth amidst the assembled crowd,
The venerable stranger cried aloud;

"Th' Athenians learn their duty well: but lo! The Spartans practise what th' Athenians know!" The words were good; and, in a virtuous cause, They justly earned a nation's glad applause. But we have surer words of precept given, In God's own Book--the words that came from heaven: "Be kind." "Be courteoust." "Be all honour shown." "Seek others' welfare rather than thine own§."

precious gifts of the Eastern sages on the birth of our Lord, is sufficient to prove the high estimation in which they were held at that time.

Among the Greeks the use of perfumes was, in some measure, restricted by their laws, and they deemed it effeminate and luxurious to employ them. In the primitive ages there were no sacrifices offered to their gods, in which odoriferous trees and herbs did not largely enter. In later ages, the offering commonly consisted of frankincense, or some perfumes, but it was a long time before frankincense was used; in the Trojan war it was unknown, and instead of it the Greeks offered cedar and citron. The Spartans were not allowed to use baths and perfumed ointments, except on particular days of the year, for the river Eurotas was expected to supply the place of the former, and exercise that of the latter. The Greeks were in the habit of perfuming their wine with myrrh, origanum, aromatics, fruits, and flowers.

The use of perfumes was carried to greater excess among the Romans; the stores of Arabia were exhausted through the extravagance of some of the emperors, and even among the soldiery the most ridiculous care was bestowed on the perfuming of their persons, their standards, ensigns, &c. Perfumes were also largely employed in their funeral rites. The pile on which the body of the deceased was laid, resembled an altar, except that it was much higher. There were four compartments rising above each other. The lowest contained straw; the second from the ground, flowers; the third, aromatic herbs and other odoriferous things; the fourth, or highest, the most precious clothes of the deceased. Liquors, ointments, and herbs of the choicest description, were likewise thrown on the corpse.

Great importance and many virtues are ascribed to perfumes by our old herbalists, such as clearing the brain, enlivening the spirits, &c., and there can be no doubt that in many cases and constitutions, the fragrance of peculiar plants may have a cheering and refreshing effect. In close and confined situations, however, they may be expected to produce a contrary result, for abundant ventilation and perfect cleanliness are necessary to the wholesome and safe enjoyment of perfumes.

The cheapness of our perfumery at the present day, allows the gratification derived from the use of fragrant oils and essences, to be much more generally attained than it could have been in former times. Herbs, drugs, and flowers, are made to yield their aromatic odours for our use. Among the former we may mention marjoram, sage, thyme, lavender, &c., while of drugs, frankincense, mace, cloves, benzoin, storax, and many others, are held in great esteem. Orange-flowers, jonquils, jessamine, roses, violets, and other fragrant flowers, are also largely employed, and thus, by a judicious use of some of these various essences, we may impart to our dwellings or our dress, the delightful odours of our favourite flowers, at any period of the year. Otto of roses, which is the most costly of all the perfumes, and the most powerful, is made in India, and very highly esteemed. It is said that the genuine otto is not prepared by distillation, but by putting a quantity of carefully picked roseleaves into a clean jar, or cask, with just enough water to cover them, and then setting the vessel in the sun for a few days. A scum forms on the surface of the water, which is removed by a piece of cotton, and is the valuable otto itself. Rose-water is distilled from fresh rose leaves gathered in dry weather, and when the flowers are in full perfection. The petals are carefully separated from the stalks and calyxes, and if a very fragrant water is required, the first product from