marshes in the neighbourhood of which we find none of those effects so visible in spots of a similar character elsewhere. But view the broad fact all over the world, and the scrutiny will show that where there is decaying vegetable or animal matter, heat and moisture will render them noxious to life; that in general, where there are marshes and swamps, there the higher animals languish, and the traveller sees nothing in these oppressive solitudes but a few wretched beings stunted in growth, dull in mind, trailing after cattle as poor and miserable as themselves. Amidst the stagnant waters of Bresse, the plains of Forez, the Campagna of Rome, the Pontine Marshes, in the Lagoons of the Mediterranean shores, the general aspect is ever the same-a dank and noisome vegetation in a grey expanse, unbroken by movement either from bough or beast-and a heavy, clinging air, overwhelming the most buoyant spirits. We find in these very reports, the candor and scrupulous honesty of which cannot be too much praised, materials enough, in our opinion, to show what our authors seem to impugn, the connexion of fever with situations in which decayed vegetable matter abounds. Thus, in the Greek islands, generally the most marshy are the most insalubrious—for instance, St. Maura, with its shallow lagoon. In the West Indian islands the same holds good: St. Lucia, Dominica, Tobago, are filled with uncultivated tracts, where deep ravines hold in stagnant pools the spoils of a tropical vegetation accumulated for centuries. It is precisely in these islands that fevers are so fatally abundant; while in St. Vincent's, Antigua, and Barbadoes, where the drainage is good, the valleys open to the breeze, the land better cultivated, the vegetation less dense, the mortality is diminished. Where the marshes have been drained or deepened, there also, as in the Ionian islands, disease has invariably been diminished. These facts hold forth a promise that, in the combat with nature, man may immeasurably better the condition of his existence, if he persevere unceasingly. A great diminution in the mortality of our possessions in the West Indies, and in the Ionian islands, has taken place; and we hesitate not in saying will continue to do so, if civilisation in its largest sense be advanced. With regard to the facts which seem exceptions to the general influences causing fevers, these may be met by others which abound in the reports. Tropical heat is not the cause of fever, say the reporters, for St. Helena is healthy; well, then, endeavour as far as possible to reduce your unhealthy locality to the conditions of this healthier one. If the excessive moisture of the Malabar coast is a proof that health may co-exist with this condition, let us not be discouraged in our endeavours to ameliorate the physical aspect of such of our colonies as abound in moisture. If neither heat nor moisture be necessarily of themselves extensively injurious, it is a consolation to know that this is so with the more unchangeable elements of climate. If fevers are less rife in the uncleared marshy grounds of Canada than where the soil has been cleared, this is a reason for believing that wood and water are not necessarily fatal, and that the immunity from malady is possibly dependent on the power of vegetation in abstracting superfluous moisture, and in preventing that fiercer action of the sun which calls forth emanations from decaying leaves. As for the instances adduced by Major Tulloch of fever being rife in islands devoid of the conditions supposed necessary to the production of malaria, it may be fairly argued that, as every kind of fever but ague may become contagious in the course of its progress, so these maladies might have been carried thither by contagion; or, what is still more probable, that the noxious vapours may have been transported by the winds. That this may be so, is an inference by analogy from the known effects of the harmattan, the sirocco, and others, which bring unimpaired the influences of regions far removed from those in which they exhibit their effects. The instances, too, of ships at sea being attacked by fevers which are raging on the distant coast they are moving towards, are too numerous to make us hesitate a moment in adopting this theory for explaining the facts which are quoted in these reports as admitting of no explanation. A careful perusal of these documents will show, that in Western Africa, the Isles de Loss, Accra, and Sierra Leone, are not out of the influence of malaria, although they may be a few miles distant from the next swamp. In the Ionian islands, the rocky and barren islands of Vido, Ithaca and Cerigo are more unhealthy than Corfu, where vegetation and marsh abound. This should suggest an inquiry into the circumstances modifying the action of malaria, and not the denial of its existence ;-and these circumstances are numerous. Heat is necessary for the production of malaria, yet if it be excessive it destroys it: hence, in all marshy districts, the cool hours of the morning and evening are dangerous, while noon is comparatively innoxious. The forest may be a prolific source of disease, but if it be pervious to the breeze, and only thick enough to ward off the intense action of the sun without checking evaporation, it affords an instance of wood and water exercising no injurious influence on health. In these and similar examples the mass of influences appear precisely alike, though they are not so. The same with regard to locality-fevers, as a general rule, rage in low places; yet they are found as destructive in elevations of 1000 feet. The inference should should be, not that elevation is of no avail, but that here some modification has occurred in the general rule;-and a closer inspection of the examples will prove that these elevated spots all overhung a marsh, or were exposed to winds blowing over large malarious districts. Our authors have acted judiciously in pointing out to the army medical officers, whose reports are crammed with speculations on the causes of fever, the numerous exceptions to their favourite and varying theories;-but their own views are too exclusive and gloomy. We disbelieve the discouraging doctrine that these scourges of the tropics are beyond our control; on the contrary, we would urge as strongly as possible on the individual, that in whatever climate he is placed, much of health depends on himself. On those who are in authority, whether on the spot or at home, we would most earnestly urge the necessity of watching over the public health, which they alone can influence; how largely, let these reports bear witness!-We can scarcely turn over a page without stumbling on some glaring defect in those arrangements which deeply affect the expenditure of life and treasure - barracks built on the same models in the tropics as at home, and these often dilapidated, and allowed to remain so till their tenants sickened and died—the rations fit for one season given in all-little or no reference had to the dietary best fitted for the change of climate -localities fixed on for permanent garrisons, where, had medical experience been resorted to, it would have proclaimed beforehand that no enemy could commit such havoc as the exhalations that must surround the soldier. Measures, however, have already, we rejoice to find, been taken to carry into effect the injunctions of these reports. The deteriorating influences of a lengthened residence in the tropics will be checked by the rotation system, by which the troops are rapidly shifted. The rations are composed of fresher and more digestible materials in hot climates-healthier localities have, in various cases, been selected for barracks. Should an increased population and prosperity give an impetus to agriculture, the immense tracts of waste lands in the West India islands will be brought into cultivation; dense forests will be removed, hence less moisture generated-and, where practicable, drainage adopted; means than which none can be more powerful in changing all the physical attributes of climate. Finally, we are glad to say, no more white soldiers are to go to the settlements in Western Africa, except a few men volunteering as non-commissioned officers. ART. Svo. pp. 245. Lon ART. V.-Poems. By John Sterling. don, 1839. WE E have read this modest volume of poems with great pleasure. It is full of tenderness, fancy, and truth, and especially to be commended for correct versification and good English. The author-a clergyman, we believe, in early life— has, apparently without effort, acquired the middle and most generally pleasing tone of Wordsworth's poetry, without that mannerism of phrase and imagery by which the modern countless imitators of this great poet are marked, and not distinguished. Some among the finest lines in the volume are, perhaps, those addressed to another name of kindred power; and, indeed, the impress of Coleridge's mind on Mr. Sterling is not less percep tible in these poems than that of Coleridge's still living friend. But neither in this instance is there any copying; principles, and master-lines of thought, indicate the disciple; and the free and quiet expression proves him not a recent one, or a partisan. There are many who can bear testimony to the tender fidelity of much of the following description; and the passage conveys a fair specimen of Mr. Sterling's manner : 'Like some full tree that bends with fruit and leaves, ; Till shapes, hues, symbols, felt the wizard's rod, O heart! that like a fount with freshness ran,' &c.—p. 153. The principal poem in this collection, The Sexton's Daughter,' is a simple but not hackneyed tale, conducted with a great deal of skill in the narrative, and leaving an unusual entireness of impression on the heart of the reader. It seems to show the author master of that rare talent amongst poets, even of much higher general powers, of relating the necessary facts in verse, without discontinuance of the poetic tone and impulse; a faculty in which Shelley-to mention only one superior name-was so signally deficient. Jane is the only child of the old, silent, and case-hardened sexton of a country parish, to whom she in her childhood is the single object of emotion, and the constant companion in the works of his vocation: 'One daughter, little Jane, had he, All else to him appear'd as dead, Years |