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Cetters from a Jlljgstrian. For the Southern Literary Gazette. HOMEOPATHY—NO. 2. Roswell, Cobb Cos. Geo. ) September 26, 1848. ) My Dear Friend : —With right hearty good will, I proceed to the task your letter impo ses upon me; and will both show you that the disciples of Hahnemann are “ dishonest as well as untrue to the principles they pub lish —and that they are unworthy the confi dence of the people.” And first, let me re mind you that some physicians still believe jn what has long been known as the “ expect ant plan.” This is what the Homeopaths have adopted—they stand by and watch— while nature and imagination cure the dis ease. Their remedies, which in an ordinary dose, contain but the u millionth of a grain,” and sometimes, only a trillionth, octillionth, and even a decillionth—the which cannot be detected by any chemical analysis—can have no effect on the animal economy. See the transcendental-beauty of the theory of this “muddle-brained German.” “With large do ses,” we are told, “ patients may be treated homeopathically, but then we may frequently expect a positive increase of the disease , or even death. The experience of such painful and dangerous aggravation, in no case necessary to a cure, led Hahnemann to employ minute doses.” This is the language of Dr. Black. It is maintained by others, that the smaller the dose, the greater its power over the dis ease —if only it be exactly adapted to the “to tality of the symptoms.” This is the theory of Gross, of Dappler, and of Hahnemann him self. Gross, who tells us that he “ has been transported into the open and peaceful oasis of pure observation and experience,” gives us the result of that “ observation ” in the fol lowing language: “by continuing the pro cess of potentialization, we finally arrive at a degree where mildness and adequate energy of action become united in the remedial agent.” Now by this, my dear Col., you are to under stand, that a medicine of the 200’th potence, would have no effect; whereas, the same ar ticle at the 800’th degree of trituration, would effect a speedy cure —or that remedy which at the 800 ’th degree of potentializa tion would be inert—at the 2,000 th, would be a powerful destroyer of disease. To show you the perfect absurdity of these infinitesi mal doses, we quote from Dr. Wood of Edin burgh. “Os such minute division, no lan guage can give even the slightest idea; and though calculations may express it in figures, yet they fail to convey any mental concep tion of its amount. A billionth of moments have not yet elapsed since the creation of the world; and toproduce a decillionth, that number must be multiplied by a million seven Again; times.” “a single grain of any sub stance in the thirtieth dilution, would extend between the sun and earth, 1262,626,262,- 626,262,626,262.626,262,626,262,626,262,626, 262 separate times.” But, my friend, neither you nor the honrn opaths shall accuse me of unfairness, and to convince you that Dr. Wood is correct in the preceding statement, I give you the following from “ Dr. Rummel’s Essay on the Highest Potencies.” The Dr. in speaking of some ob servations he had made with a solar micro scope on infinitesimal doses, says: “It is an enchanting sight, these millions of points; a nd to imagine that the longest line of figures is scarcely sufficient to express the littleness of those atoms. Considering that every par ticle of the attenuations up to 200, has been attenuated 200 times, and that these atoms, J f placed side by side, would fill a space far greater than that of our solar system —we are bewildered.”* Not very strange that he should be. Hear also, Dr. Black. “Proceed rag on the moderate assumption, that by each trituration the particles are reduced to the * Homeopathic Examiner—(N. S.) vol. 1, p. 182. SQiTSHEiEia a. a ins IE aie ¥ has siring* hundredth part of their previous size, we shall find the surface of a medicine, originally the cube of an inch, will become at the third tri turation, equal to tw r o square miles ;at the fifth, to the Austrian dominions; at the sixth, to the area of Asia and Africa together; and at the ninth, to the united superficies of the sun, the planets, and the moon.”—[Black’s Homeopathy, p. 88.] To those w r ho believe in the absurdities of Homeopathy, the words of Bishop Hall are not inappropriate; “Old wives and starres are his counsellors; his night-spell is his guard, and charms his phy sicians. He w r ears Paracelsian characters for the tooth-ache ; and a little hallowed wax is his antidote for all evils.” But 1 have said enough of the hochpotenzen. The next point on which you request me to speak, re fers to the honesty of homeopaths. Do not understand me to say that the practitioners of the Hahnemann school are dishonest men in anything that appertains to the good citizen; what I mean, is, that they contradict their own assertions, practice what they do not believe, and endeavor by tickling the people, partic ularly the fairer portion of creation, to gain their object by unworthy means. I could give you numberless instances in which they have used medicines allopathically but time obliges me to be brief. At the meeting of the Medical Society of London, Oct. 5, 1846, Dr. Bennet read the following prescriptions, one having been written on the 6th, and the other on the 9th of the month by a Homeo pathist:'—On the 6th, one grain of ipecacu anha in an ounce of water; of which, a sin gle drop was to be taken with syrup and wa ter directly, and repeated if necessary, in four hours. On the 9th, she was ordered a mix ture, consisting of five ounces of infusion of senna, half an ounce of tincture of jalap, half an ounce of manna, half an ounce of carda moms, and two ounces of sulphate of mag nesia; and of this, she was to take a sixth part every three hours ! f Surely these facts require no comment. Let us see why the ip ecac was given. In Hull’s translation of Jahr. vol. 1. art “Ipecacuanha,” we are told it “ removes uneasiness, caused by eating fat pork; “cries and howling of children; anx iety and fear of death ; moroseness, with con tempt for everything; disdainful humour; de sire for a number of things, without knowing exactly which; irritability, and disposition to be angry, &c. Ulcers with a black base, on the legs; and, precisely 108 other “general symptoms.” What a horrible condition the poor woman must have been in ! For the present, I have no more to say; but will endeavor to satisfy you on other points, in my next. Yours, truly, BAYARD. ■{■London Lancet—Vol. 5, No. 1., p. 61, Jan. 1844. fijome (Homsponlicntt. For the Southern Literary Gazette. NEW-YORK LETTERS—NO. 22. West Point, Sept. 28th, 1848. My Dear Sir , —The night preceding my departure from the mountains witnessed a grand engagement between the rival forces of summer and winter. The former, very much weakened, as I hinted in my last, by the continued attacks of the van of the enemy’s army, in the shape of autumnal winds, were too weak to repel the ruthless invaders, and on the evening in question were completely routed. As I looked abroad on the follow ing morning, and saw all the strong fast nesses around me in the possession of the hoary enemy, with his white flags glittering on their summits, I felt that the day was lost, and at once prepared to gather up my plun der, and beat a retreat. Thus, excepting on ly the return march, ends my summer cam paign. On my way hither, I paused in the village of Catskill, an 4 passed a few pleasant hours at the residence of the Rev. Mr. Noble, Rec tor of the Church there. This accomplished gentleman and poet was the pastor and friend of the Artist Cole, and is now his literary executor. It is well known that he is enga ged in the preparation of a work, to contain a Memoir and the literary remains of his de ceased friend. The appearance of these vol umes is anxiously awaited by the public, but, from the difficult nature of the task, it is very probable that their publication will be delay ed, at least until the ensuing Spring. It seems that the Artist has left a far greater quantity of literary material, both prose and verse, than is generally thought. Nearly all his pictures were the theme of his pen—and his Biographer appears to think that, had verse been the chief medium of his thoughts, he would have been a greater poet than he was a painter. It w T as not until the very hour at which Death summoned him away, that this great Artist began to feel himself prepared to enter upon the high walks of Art which he hoped to follow. His mind was busy with lofty and noble things, which, had he been spared to evolve, w 7 ould doubtless have ad ded undreamed-of glories to his beloved Art. The labors which he had in contemplation, at the time of his death, w r ere of the same lof ty and religious nature as the pictures of his last grand series, ‘ The Cross and the World.’ They would have been embodiments of great Catholic truths, and would have placed him among the first moral and religious painters of the world. A series of large pictures of “Life, Death and Immortality,” would —had he lived—have followed the “ Cross and the World;” and these, again, w r ould probably have been succeeded by a grand epic poem on canvass, in a series of antithetical pic tures, illustrating the progress of Sacred and Profane Empire. My rambles have now brought me within fifty miles of home, and, as I hinted, I think, in my last sheet, I shall, in the present com munication, bid adieu to the country, and henceforth, for many months, chat with you of the carpeted saloon, instead of the grassy lawn. I have but to look over the beauties of this romantic spot, and then the jig will be up. You know West Point—of course, every body does—its romantic location in the bosom of the most celebrated scenes of the Hudson; its many historical associations; its Military Academy, and so on. Very fortunate, too, is it for me, tiiat you are thus acquainted; for, though the theme is a pleasant one, I have scarcely time now for more than a bare allu sion to its attractions. FLIT. .foreign (Jorreoponirence. For the Southern Literary Gazette. LETTERS FROM SCOTLAND.—NO. 2. Edinburgh, August 10th, 1848. My Dear R ., —l can give you, in thecom pass of a letter, but a meagre account of this city, which I am inclined to pronounce, after a pretty thorough examination, the most beau tiful I have ever seen. I mean as a whole, of course; for, so far as portions of the old town are concerned, such an opinion must be taken cum grano salts. Our approach to it was so rapid, and so nearly in the shadows of the evening, that we missed the fine coup d'ccil, described with so much fervor by most visitors. I have, however, since seen the city from the various eminences within and around it, the chief of which are Calton Hill, remarkable for its palace-like structures and its beautiful monuments; Salisbury Crags, on the S. E. of the city; and, lowering be yond and above them, the lofty peak known as Arthur’s Seat, which commands an unin terrupted view of city and country —the like of which I had never before seen. It is no easy matter, however, to climb to Arthur’s Seat—and the fashionable point of observa tion is from a beautiful gravel-walk at the foot of the Crags, but still sufficiently above I the city to afford a fine panoramic view. This was a favorite place of resort with the author of Waverly, and hence it is called Sir Walter’s Walk. From one of these eminen ces look with me on the city, presenting fea tures quite peculiar and exceedingly interest ing. The old and new towns are separated from each other by a glen or ravine, running in a direction nearly East and West. We look towards the setting sun. On the South side of the Valley, is the imposing High Street of the old towm, at the foot of which lies the palace of Holy rood, and on its summit stands the Castle of Edinburgh—to which the slreet rises with a steep ascent, and is lined with fine old buildings of immense elevation on the Valley-side—in some cases, ten arid twelve stories, or ‘■flats,’ as they are termed. I pass ed from the streetdown to the ravine in many places—sometimes by flights of steps, and at others through narrow, dirty lanes, called j “ wynds,” inhabited by the lowest classes of the people. On the North of the glen lies the new town —its streets intersecting each other at right angles, the length being paral lel with the ravine. Prince street, directly on the edge of the Valley, is one of the finest in Edinburgh, ft is built up on one side only, that on the ravine being a promenade like a terrace with a massive railing of iron. In the ravine, however, there are various monu ments and edifices, particularly the magnifi cent gothic pile commemorative of the Wizard of the North. I remember with what plea sure 1 first saw a fine picture of this monu ment in Colman’s window, on Broadway. Imagine, then, the delight with which I gazed upon it, as it stood in the midst of natural and artificial beauty—itself the crowning glo ry of all. The towns are united by bridges, and one mound of earth raised by deposits from the cellars and foundations of the new town. But how shall I hope to give you an idea of the city in any reasonable limits'?— Here Holyrood—there the stern old Castle— on the other hand, the elegant churches, monuments, palaces, and private edifices of the new town. I will weary you no longer with the panorama. Let us visit some points of special interest. In company with my friends, I crossed the Bridge, or Bridge-street, as it is called, and it is almost covered with edifices—and, entering High Street, proceeded eastward to Holyrood, which lies in what is called the Canongate. Its appearance has been so often described, that I will not say more of it than that it is a beautiful specimen of the castellated order of architecture —quadrangular, and very spa cious. The chief interest to visitors at Holy rood lies in the apartments of Queen Mary, and these, of course, we visited. Everything remains as it was when she occupied them— and it was with no common interest that w r e saw the very bed on which she slept. In the ante-room of the Queen’s bed-chamber, David Rizzio, a young Italian, in the service of Lord Darnley, was assassinated by Ruthven and several cowardly associates. Rizzio I was supping with the Queen, the Countess of Argyle, and other favorites, in a small room adjoining the bed-chamber, when several armed men rushed into the Cabinet, and at tempted to seize the young Italian. He fled to Mary for protection, and she strove, with all her might, to shield him; but Ruthven dragged him from her presence, through her chamber into the ante-room, where they mur dered him most foully, inflicting no fewer than fifty-six wounds on his body. Such was the terrible and cruel revenge of Darnley upon a youth, whom he suspected of being too dear to his royal wife. Three centuries have not sufficed to wipe out the stain of that revolting deed, or to diminish aught the interest with ■which the sorrowing spectator gazes upon the memorials of its horrors. I could not see I the portrait of that beautiful boy, without feeling an absolute conviction of his inno cence ; and I could not see the armor which i the ruthless assassin, Ruthven, wore on the 173